


The Soldier

by PenchantPearls



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Dubious Consent, F/M, HYDRA Trash Party, Oral Sex, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:20:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24858271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PenchantPearls/pseuds/PenchantPearls
Summary: ‘Your Bucky can’t hear you Ms Laing. There’s no point tryin’ to talk to him.’Her Bucky? These men knew of her infatuation. This was no ransom rape and torture. This was psychological.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 5





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> All feedback welcome, as always.
> 
> Love, Penchant Pearls x

‘What about her?’  
It takes Rumlow all his self-restraint not to openly hit the rookie across the face.  
‘I think we might have something to answer for if Fury’s resident psychiatrist goes missing, don’t you think?’  
The rookie bit the inside of his cheek but couldn’t help but look as the airy Doctor Schreznic floated by with her fresh muffin. At that Rumlow did shove him.  
‘What is it with you and coloured girls, huh?’  
‘There’s nothing-’  
‘-Eyes up.’  
He could see the star struck look cross the rookie’s face as Captain fucking America walked in, his robotic empty shell of a best friend following behind. The poor sod had stars in his eyes. And Bucky Barnes had his kill switch in the standby position. For now.   
‘I thought you wanted to be apart of the fun.’  
‘I do, I just-’  
‘-Just what, huh? Wanted to participate while keeping your hands clean? No fuckin’ way.’  
‘Look, Rumlow-’  
‘-Don’t worry about it,’ the kid was a fuckin’ coward and it was stealing his appetite for their late night plans ‘Just watch. There’s an easy choice here.’  
The kid can’t understand him, his eyes are still glazed over but maybe that’s just the stupidity that’s always been just below the surface.  
‘Come on, come on, how do you scope a target? Who fits the profile?’  
Rumlow pushed a half-hearted smile onto his face at a passing tech he kept friendly with for access purposes.  
‘Pretty, low-tier, meek’ He replied, the recitation coming easily to him.  
‘That’s right,’ Rumlow nodded, keeping his eyes roaming around the cafeteria ‘Now, I like blondes usually, like our friend Carter, but there’s someone else I think would be better suited.’  
‘Huh?’  
‘Watch, dumbass.’  
Both sets of eyes turned to where Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes sat opposite each other, eating their lunch. It took the kid longer than he hoped but he saw the exact moment realisation dawned, his gaze flitting between Barnes and the woman he was staring at as she hovered by the pastries. It was obvious enough that the Captain turned to glance behind him, a smirk on his smugly righteous face.   
‘Who is she?’  
‘Temp admin. Been here two weeks. Her contract ends on the 30th.’  
‘What’s her name?’  
Rumlow grimaced.  
‘Does it matter?’  
She picks up a chocolate croissant, putting in her mouth before she even turns around. The look on her face as she realises Barnes is watching her is so sweet, it almost makes him hard, thinking about the look that’ll be on her face later knowing she wants him the same was he wants her. The girl splutters a bit, attempting, Rumlow thinks, to look graceful in front of her crush. She fails, pastry dotting her lower lip and chin and he just fucking knows, before he even looks for confirmation, that Barnes is eating it up. The grin splitting his face makes her blush the same colour as the pasta special.   
‘So what, they like each other?’  
‘Yes, dipshit, they like each other.’  
‘So why do we pick her?’  
‘Jesus H Christ, how did you even get this job?’  
The rookie looks at his shoes.  
‘If Barnes likes her then…’  
He prompts with a sarcasm that borders on cruelty.  
‘…The soldier will like her too.’  
‘Now you’re gettin’ it.’  
Rumlow ruffles his hair, relishing his flinch as he does so.  
‘0100 hours. We’ll be waiting.’  
‘How do I get her get her to come?’  
Rumlow’s bark of laughter is short and sharp.  
‘You won’t be getting her to come sonny boy, that’s his job.’  
He makes to leave but not before cataloguing the panic on the boy’s face.  
‘Figure it out baby cakes. Otherwise you’re going to miss out on all the fun.’

‘I want to see her, Doc.’  
Dr Schreznic raised her eyebrows delicately.  
‘It makes sense why you would.’  
‘I should apologise at least, explain…’  
The poor man was tying himself up in knots, distraught after having made so much progress, only to be confronted with the depth of his conditioning.   
‘She knows you’re not the soldier.’  
That confuses him. His story of capture and subsequent torture was common knowledge in any history book. His following atrocities were, unfortunately, similarly documented regardless of how hard he tried to forget. But here he was, having come so far only to destroy another life. And the life of someone he knew. Someone he liked. Someone he …  
‘I know,’ the statuesque woman begins gently ‘that you know I can’t share what Ms Laing and I have discussed here, but she wasn’t the only victim, was she Sergeant?’ He refuses to meet her eyes ‘You need to forgive yourself, James.’  
‘Why should I?’  
He’s being needlessly aggressive, but Dr Schreznic is well used to that by now.  
‘Because she already has.’

This hangover was killing her. But she’d promised herself never to mix red wine with tequila ever again so that’s not what would have done this. Had Leelin involved her with some sort of exotic liquor? No she wouldn’t have agreed to let her make drinks if they were going out. Come to think of it, she hadn’t drank at all as far as she could remember. If only she could think above the splitting in her skull. If she could open her eyes then the blurriness was bound to clear in a few minutes like it always did. But as her eyelids fluttered fruitlessly, she realised that they were open, but the all-consuming blackness remained. Fuck, she’d finally drank herself blind just like her mother always threatened she would. You wouldn’t drink on a work night, Lita. Right, this was not a hangover. Her head was beginning to clear but being upright was always a struggle in these particular situations. The panic was beginning to overwhelm her sensibility as she realised her hands were bound behind her back and her lack of vision was a direct result of the bag over her head.   
‘Jesus, how hard did you hit her?’  
Her pulse was hammering so hard in her ears she could barely hear. She had to remember her fundamentals kidnap training Level 1. Did she recognise that voice? She thought so but she couldn’t be sure. More muffled speaking. At least two assailants. Keep your breathing calm. Whoever recommended that had clearly never actually been kidnapped before. Trying not to panic was like letting water run down your throat without swallowing. Just as long as she didn’t cry. If everything else failed tonight, and she was pried apart and torn limb from limb, she’d allow herself to scream until she was hoarse, but they would not be added to the list of people who had her tears. She should never have signed that waiver. She should never have agreed to work in Stark tower. She should-  
‘It’s going to be a lot harder to fix her memory if she’s got a shiner on her face, dipshit.’  
‘What was I supposed to do?’  
‘Is she even fuckin’ alive?’  
A third voice.   
The hood was ripped violently off her head thrusting her from darkness into blinding light. It did absolutely nothing to help her headache.   
‘She’s fine.’  
‘Shut up.’  
She couldn’t tell how many men were present or where she was, only that they were boxed in by concrete and the men were undoubtedly military trained. She’d seen enough of the security detail and training facilities to know a soldier by how he held his gun. She also knew that these men were much, much worse.   
‘What do you say, soldier? How she look to you?’  
The lights were shining so crookedly in her eyes that her vision was filled with blinding crosses. For these men to refer to someone as a soldier filled her with dread. There was a figure shadowed to her right, broad and eerily still. While the others (maybe 7 that she could make out) shuffled and fidgeted, he was a statue, commanding in his silence.   
‘Soldat,’ a man in the back directed ‘undress her.’  
She froze.   
No. This was so much worse. The soldier stepped further into the light and she didn’t want to look, had to look. First at his boots, so familiar in how many times she’d shuffled passed him, looking at the ground for fear that he’d look at her, see her, know all the things she thought about him written on her face. Travelling his thick thighs, the chest that she thought of so many times hovering over her while he drove deep to find out just how warm she was and how wet he made her. It was a small mercy, that he wore his mask, so she couldn’t see his face. That handsome face that had so often smiled at her, that she’d so often pictured between her legs, that face that was still so kind in an attempt to atone for the past he wasn’t responsible for. He was not responsible then and as she saw the cold dead expression settle in his eyes and on his brow, she knew he wasn’t responsible now either.   
‘Now, soldier.’  
She was not going to cry. He takes two sure strides towards her until she can see his boots in front of her knees. The space between where he’s not touching her and when he is seems to stretch an eternity. But then his hands are on the front of her dress, and he pulls with ferocity enough to rip the fabric until she’s exposed to her navel. His grip is just as strong as he hooks both hands under her arms and yanks her to her feet; her dress so fitted this morning, now gaping to reveal her mismatched underwear. There’s dispassion in what she can see on his face as he pulls a knife from his waistband and slices through the straps of her bra until she’s standing only in her stockings. It's cold and damp. The air is harsh against her bare skin.  
‘Who knew she was hiding all that under those stiff skirts, huh?’  
Another voice, this one gruff with dregs of arousal.   
‘Undress her Soldier, I’m not gonna say it again.’  
She catches the barest hint of hesitation as he brings his hands to her pantyhose, ensuring to pull them away from her belly before slicing through them. He doesn’t rip this time, lowering himself before her as he draws the knife almost tenderly along each leg. She dutifully steps out of them as he pulls them downwards, finally naked and trembling under the cold air of the basement and the caressing gaze of strangers she hated. It was more than she could bear; the shame of her nakedness in front of these monsters, her degradation at the hands of Bucky-no. The man before her was not Bucky.  
‘Sergeant Barnes?’  
She means for it to be a whisper, but her voice is so small she can’t be sure he’s even heard her. The others have though.  
‘She speaks!’  
Snickering.  
‘Your Bucky can’t hear you Ms Laing. There’s no point tryin’ to talk to him.’  
Her Bucky? These men knew of her infatuation. This was no ransom rape and torture. This was psychological. The colour drained from her face, tightening her chest with adrenaline. If ever there was a time to leave, best she try while she was still able. Although having her hands tied posed a potential problem. Her breath quickened, preparing for all she was worth to run and scream and fight until she was dead if need be.  
‘Careful Rookie, she’s gonna run.’  
Shit. They could read her like an open book.  
‘You owe me $10.’  
‘Such bullshit, I didn’t think she’d have it in her.’  
She can hear the tell tale slap of money into a palm. It was becoming harder and harder to keep that promise to herself not to cry. She could only imagine how weak she looked, scared and covered in gooseflesh with her hands still bound behind her, forcing her chest outwards for their appraisal.   
‘Don’t be stupid darlin’  
That young voice again. She felt hands behind her, running over the cuffs confining her wrists to each other. There was no way she was getting out of this.   
‘What do you want?’  
She’s surprised it’s come out at all, considering how scared she feels. But the pride that she asked at all is enough to warm her.   
More snickering.  
‘Well? Aren’t you going to answer her, soldier?’  
Barnes turns to the voice, his brow furrowing. He wouldn’t be able to speak through his muzzle. She could feel the tears pricking her eyelids. No. Her eyes are glued to his hands, limp by his sides and ever still. So large and soft looking and yet…  
‘What do you want to do with her, soldier?’  
And his fingers twitch, ever so slightly. She must not have seen that properly.  
‘Stop it.’  
There’s that commanding voice again, berating the man who deigned to tease the soldier. Whoever he is, he's undoubtedly in charge.  
‘Soldier,’ the man steps up behind Barnes and into her line of sight, ‘you’re going to fuck Ms Laing’s mouth.’  
She could hear a pin drop in the silence that follows. Barnes makes no move. The commander walks purposefully towards him, stopping to his side, his face covered with a black balaclava.  
‘Fuck her mouth soldier. That’s an order.’  
No, not like this. How many times had she imagined what it would be like to take the kind sergeant between her lips and watch his face as she laved him with her tongue? But not like this. Not this bastardised incarnation of what should have been her fantasy. Please not like this. He stepped towards her, close enough that she reared back in order to see him. Her knees were beginning to ache on the cold concrete, the cold hardening her skin and her resolve. No tears. He’s not looking at her as his fingers find the fastening to his trousers, pulling free his flaccid cock.  
‘Oh no that won’t do at all.’  
The commander says with mock concern.   
‘I’m going to need you to get hard for us soldier. Nice and hard so Ms Laing here struggles when you shove it in her throat.’  
Barnes doesn’t react.  
‘Come on soldier, we don’t have all night.’  
She watches in horror as Barnes looks down at himself, his eyes closing for a fraction of a second too long as he blinks. Come on, she mentally screaming at him, you have to be in there Bucky. You could kill all of these men in 20 seconds. The commander clicks his tongue pulling a baton from his belt.  
‘What do you say, 100,000 volts to the base of the spine to start with should get him nice and hard.’  
They can’t seriously mean to tase an erection out of him.  
‘Maybe start with 80.’  
The commander scoffs, switching it to life.  
‘Trust me, these guys can take a lot more juice than we can.’  
Barnes still hasn’t moved, won’t even look at her. She regrets all those times she was afraid that he would. How stupid she had been. The commander is shaking the baton to test the vibrations as it moves through the air. Not like this.  
‘Stop!’  
Her voice cuts through the anticipation a machete through butter. All sets of eyes are on her, the Sergeant’s included.   
Rumlow does so, more out of shock than any directive from her.  
‘You don’t have to do that.’  
Rumlow bends down sharply, shoving his face in hers.  
‘Oh really? And why not? Why don’t I have to do that?’  
She’s shutting her eyes as tight as she can willing the tears to retreat.   
‘I’ll…I’ll get him hard. You don’t have to do that.’  
He laughs, the shock clear in his pitch.  
‘What was that sweetheart?’  
She takes a deep breath in an attempt to fortify herself, regardless of how his gaze flits to her nipples as she inhales.  
‘You don’t have to hurt him. I’ll get him...get him…’  
Her nerves have dissipated on the tail end of her offer.  
‘Fuckin’ hell we did a good job picking this one, boys.’  
There’s whooping so loud he barely manages to finish his sentence audibly.   
‘Ok then,’ he stands next to Bucky, brandishing the baton by his side, an ever present threat ‘make him nice and hard.’  
She wished she could mask the shaky breath she exhaled but as it stood, the room was so quiet they could probably hear her heart trying to beat out of her chest. She inched forward achingly slow, and only when her breath was hot against his cock did he look down at her on her knees, completely at his mercy. Her tongue darted out shyly and he twitched in front of her face at the sight. She hadn’t even made contact yet. Her first lick was tentative, light, up his shaft. He followed her tongue, lengthening against it as he continued to stare at her.   
‘There’s a good girl’  
That jarring baritone shook her out of whatever fluid state she was trying to distract herself with, drawing her viciously back into her reality. When he was erect enough to level with her face she placed him on the flat of her tongue and finally began to slide forward. There was the barest intake of breath behind the mask as she closed her lips around his head.   
‘I think he likes it.’  
A mocking voice from the back of the room.  
‘Do you like that, soldier?’   
Barnes grunts non-committedly at the question, his eyes never leaving hers. She had begun to shut down, as if watching herself perform this act from an outside perspective, the threat of tears drifting further and further away. She could survive this. If she was just going to pleasure him then she could survive this.   
‘Enough of this,’ An impatient timbre she hadn’t heard yet ‘you told him to fuck her mouth.’  
The commander clicks his tongue.  
‘He’s right, soldier. I did give you an order.’  
She halts immediately, withdrawing enough so she can look up at Barnes, still pleading with the chance any semblance of the man she had heard so many great things about would show himself. He had to be in there. She can hear the baton vibrate to life and the commander draws it up but this time it’s angled towards her.   
‘Rum-’  
‘-Quiet’  
From the sounds of that warning he was going off script.  
‘Fuck her mouth soldier, or she gets shot with 100,000 volts instead of you.’  
The way in which Barnes turns his head to look at him gives her chills. Her gasp is shaky at the threat. She wouldn’t survive that. There’s challenge and tension thick enough to suffocate her. She’s scared. What if Bucky isn’t in there at all, and she dies, naked abused on the concrete that’s chaffing her knees? But then his left arm, his metal arm, bare to showcase all its deadly glory is coming to rest on the back of her head while his right grasps the base of his cock. And then he’s pulling her towards him, unforgiving in his strength. Her lips are tight shut though, and what she can only describe as panic is creeping across his forehead. The commander is still perilously close to her with that baton and Barnes is pointing his head at her lips, waiting.  
‘Open.’  
Rumlow says curtly but she’ll be damned if the soldier’s eyes aren’t pleading with her.  
She does. Her lips form a circle like they did before and he begins to thrust shallowly between them. He’s warm and salty and under other circumstances, she’d be pushing him into her cheek with her tongue and rubbing along his shaft in time with his strokes until his eyes rolled back into his head. But not like this. Not like this. The commander returns his baton to belt and pulls a gun, she can’t turn her head enough to see, still in Barnes’ ironclad grip, but she can hear the tell-tale click of the hammer being pulled back.  
‘I swear to god soldier, if you don’t start fucking her throat so I can see it bulge then I’m going to blow her fuckin’ brains out.’  
Fear is coursing through her veins thick and hot. She was going to die with a cock in her mouth.   
She can see the vein in his forehead strain at the words and feel the cool metal tips of his fingers reposition themselves on the back of her head, all of a sudden he pulls her towards his groin while he pistons his hips forward, his other hand angling the base of his shaft so his cockhead slips past the opening to her throat. She gags around his girth, it was too much for her to swallow, but her hands are flailing fruitlessly behind her, an effective reminder at how little she was in control. He holds himself just behind her tonsils for a second before withdrawing with a harsh wet sound. She heaves, her entire body wracking with the coughing spasms that follow.   
‘That’s more like it.’  
The commander says, his voice broken. She would see the bulge in his tac gear if she turned her head far enough to the side but Barnes’ fingers were still on the back of her head, rubbing almost imperceptible circles, soothing her. Did he even know he was doing that?   
‘Don’t stop now. Things were just getting good!’  
She’d lost track of which voices the jeering and mockery belongs to now. She’s past crying. Barnes pulls her forward again but he’s so gentle, guiding her into position and then waiting patiently for her to regain her breath and open in her own time. His brows are still drawn together, and there’s sadness there even as she feels the pulsing against her tongue as he continues to harden in her mouth. He slides in until he’s half way over her tongue before he pauses, moving both hands to grip at her hair. He’s waiting. Looking at her with so much concern that she has no choice but to slacken her jaw and push her tongue out over her bottom lip. Hers will not be another life on his conscience.  
‘Look at that, isn’t that beautiful? See how she’s sticking her tongue out for him, rookie? Fucking nailed it with this one.’  
With her silent permission, Barnes pushes, gently at first as he nudges gradually beyond her barrier. There’s a split second of resistance but then he bends his knees, angling himself once more, and he slides in until he can feel her chin resting against his balls. Her eyes screw tight shut with the gag he can feel constricting him. The feeling sets off fireworks in his brain and he grunts with the force.   
‘Come on Soldier,’ Rumlow’s threat is ever present at the back of his mind, the gun hovering too close to her head for comfort. He knows he has to. To save her life, he has to. The withdrawal from her is torture but flexing back into her throat sends an agony just as piercing up his spine. He loves this. And he hates that he does. She’s bent forward into him, her neck almost at a right angle to the rest of her body, stretching obscenely around his size as he fights to find a smooth rhythm. Three thrusts and he pulls back giving her space to breathe. She spits this time, a mixture of saliva and bile too thick to swallow coating his boots and the floor in front of her.   
‘Fuck, I’m in love.’  
She wants to die. Not just for the fact that her lungs ache with the effort of holding her breath, nor for the fact that her jaw is already sore from the sheer angle she has to maintain in order to fit him inside. No, her shame runs much deeper than that, and much further down; she’s wet. And when she looks up into his face again, she can see the flash of realisation cross his face; the concern morph into bewilderment. With his super soldier senses, there’s no doubt he can smell it; he knows.   
‘I like it when she squirms.’  
‘Yeah, make her fight!’  
The jeering is reaching another crescendo and she wonders how much longer she can keep this up before passing out.   
‘You heard the men, soldier. Throat fuck her for 10 seconds,’ he pulls up his sleeve, tapping the screen on his watch ‘she doesn’t come up for air until you hear the beep or she gets a bullet, do you understand?’  
He’s stony as a statue, refusing to look anywhere but at her. She’s still panting hard in an attempt to catch her breath. She knows he wont start until she does so. Bucky must still be in there. But how much of him?  
‘The timer doesn’t start until you’re ball’s deep, soldier. Get to it.’  
His sigh is a mixture of frustration and pure rage through his mask. But he steels his face, that pleading back in his eyes as he waits, ever patient. She shuffles forward, readjusting herself and coming closer without his prompting, even though her knees were screaming at her and her throat was on fire. The commander feels like he’s the one holding his breath as she draws nearer, inhaling deeply in preparation. She nods once and he glides forward again. There’s no resistance this time with her position, she knows once she’s swallowed his cock head, that all she has to do relax and let him fuck her through her gag reflex. So she does. She wonders what her neck looks like with him inside it and if all the other men are watching as intently as the commander is. He’s so distracted he forgot to start the timer, but the solider is dutifully fucking into her, pushing until she feels him almost in her sternum before pulling out only to start his assault afresh. He’s already been at it for three seconds before she hears the starting beep.  
‘All she needed was a little warming up and now look at her. Swallowing that cock no problem.’  
She doesn’t care about anyone else; she just needs to stay upright and centered on him. He’s still looking at her, his hands soft against her head, caressing her, soothing her. Saliva is spilling over her chin, sticking her hair to her cheeks with the fervour of his thrusts. She had the wherewithal to notice as he brushes it back away from her face, the tenderness in his touch juxtaposed against the relentless pistoning into her straining, defenceless throat. She’s lost count, but her chest is about to burst. His eyes are tightening and she wonders if he’ll come soon, if he’ll be punished if he does without their permission, if anyone else has noticed that she’s so wet she dripping down her thighs, even squeezed tight as they are. His moan shakes her out of her trance. It’s loud and a brutal reminder that at least physically, sergeant Barnes is enjoying using her like this. Her eyes are watering from the force of her gagging but she forgives herself this trespass. These tears are not from shame or frustration. But then she feels the commander drop to his knees besides her and it takes all her concentration just to keep herself from choking under his gaze coupled with Barnes’ assault. She can’t breathe, and the desire to cough is threatening to make her bite down. So many consequences flash before her if she were to do such a thing, the least being that she’d hurt Sergeant Barnes. Sergeant Barnes who was vibrating in front of her, his breathing becoming more laboured with each passing second. She was becoming light headed, the gathering of bile being constantly pushed down in her gullet threatening to drown her. A faint beeping sounds and all of a sudden she’s doubled over, heaving what little contents of her stomach are left on the concrete in front of her. Barnes has stepped away from her giving her space, his cock glistening under the lights and so hard he’s curved up against his belly. There was no doubt as to how this woman was making the soldier feel.   
‘You didn’t do too badly Ms Laing,’ there’s no sound above his awful grating voice, thick with arousal ‘In fact, I’d say we’ll be seeing you again after your stellar performance here this evening.’  
She keeps her head bowed, refusing to look at him. Better her spit drip over her bare body than give him the satisfaction of seeing the horror plastered to her face.   
‘Again, soldier.’  
A beat. Yet Barnes’ boots haven’t moved towards her so she sneaks a look up towards him. A flicker passes across his eyes. What was that? Recognition?   
‘This time,’ the commander continues ‘once you’re in her throat, hold her down until you hear the beep. 10 seconds.’  
She couldn’t take any more. Not another 10 seconds. Barnes was still staring at her, immovable. A cold hard barrel presses up against the back of her skull and she belatedly realises that there’s someone else behind her. The pounding in her head was returning with a vengeance, threatening to consume her so completely that she hadn’t even heard their approach. His sharp intake of breath is clearly audible under his mask as he steps forward again, pressing down on his heavy cock so it’s again angled towards her mouth. He wasn’t going to let them kill her for his reluctance. Soldier or not. Steve had asked him once, as so many others had, if he remembered what he did when he was The Soldier. Do you remember them? It had sent such a tangible pain through his chest to admit that he did; every single one. He had been a fool to allow Steve convince him he deserved anything good. Go talk to her. His teasing was always more gentle these days than it used to be. Buck had scoffed at him, the idea ludicrous. He was content to picture her on all fours, back arched and screaming for him to fuck her harder, rougher as he pulled at himself in the shower. Had almost said as much to Steve, but then she had smiled at him that first time so shyly when she had caught him staring and he’d begun to wonder what it would be like to take her out; if she’d say yes out of obligation to be polite. If she’d ask him questions about his past and expect him to answer truthfully. If she’d want to hear of all the sordid things he imagined doing to her with his mouth. Bucky had dismissed the idea just as quickly. He was beyond redemption now. Regardless of who he answered to, or how he answered, he would remember the image of her like this, glassy eyed with tear stained cheeks. Her hair plastered to her forehead and her breasts swaying, shaking strands of her saliva onto her thighs below. He would hate later, how it made him throb, tightening his balls.   
‘Soldier.’  
A warning.  
She lets her mouth hang open, her tongue lolling over her bottom lip in a way that’s just so inviting. There’s a stray thought at the back of his mind that wonders how he could make this any easier on her. He could blow his own brains out. That would render him completely useless, but that couldn’t guarantee her safety. And try as he might, he was unable to reach for the weapons kept at his belt, only stroke along his own shaft. He wishes in equal measures that she wouldn’t look at him like that and that she never stops. He’s powerless against the moan that escapes him as he feels her mouth around him again, wet and hot. Rumlow is still knelt next to her watching with grotesque interest in his eyes as Barnes enters her, all warm satin, as slow as he’s able to give her a chance to accommodate his size. She doesn’t gag until her nose is pressed up against his groin, his cock fully seated inside her. Her eyes have shut against the convulsion trying to force him out, but his hands are against her head, keeping her in place. Rumlow’s hands move too slowly to his watch finally setting the timer.   
‘There’s a good girl.’  
He says, his tone repulsively saccharine. The soldier can feel every time the muscles in her neck contract around him and it’s harder than he cares to admit, not to thrust in an effort feel it all along his cock. But he’s been told to keep still. There’s a moment suspended as she can hear the pull of fabric and she wonders if this is finally when the men will take turns using her before killing her. The commander has removed his glove and now his hand is moving ever so slowly towards her. Panic begins to blur the edges of her vision. There’s no telling what this man would do to her, especially as vulnerable as she was. It would be no surprise if he said they’d use her again purely to lull her into a false sense of security before slitting her neck open right here, right now. But there’s no weapon in his hand as far as she can see out of the periphery of her vision. The brush of his fingers is almost tentative at first, just over her larynx. She wants to pull away but Barnes’ grip is inescapable. She waits, dread flooding her as she feels the tips of his fingers and thumb encase the outline the soldier is making in her neck. It’s already too tight and now the commander is squeezing experimentally, moving his fingers along the column of her throat until he finds the tip of Barnes’ cockhead. The feeling is making her spasm and she hates that he’s so close he can see it; can see the tears running out of the corners of her eyes and down her face. Barnes is grunting above her and never has 10 seconds felt so long in her life. His fingers are relentless, picking up speed and rubbing hard now at the base of her throat.  
‘Don’t come, Soldat.’  
There’s a strangled cry as she imagines Barnes regaining his control. Did they have that much power that they could command him not to come? What hope did she ever have to reaching him when he was like this? He’s focused his attention on jerking off the soldier and using her throat as the catalyst. Her cheeks are blown out with the pressure from the saliva gathering with every convulsion that forces it upward into her mouth, where she’s already so full with how thick he is. Finally she can hear the faint beeping and once again he pulls out, leaving his hands in her hair to keep it out of her way as she falls forward, coughing and spluttering. The commander stands, moving away from her with a speed borne of disgust. She’s heaving over her knees, the soldier still holding her hair back from her face the same way a concerned lover would. The only thing penetrating her haze is the volume of their competing breathing. Barnes sounds just as strained as she is.   
‘Come on Rumlow, it was just starting to get good.’  
‘I swear to god,’ he cocks his gun ‘one more fuckin’ person tries to tell me what to do and they lose their head.’  
Rumlow. Where had she heard that name before?   
A man steps up behind him slowly.  
‘Easy boss. The guys just get carried away, you know how they are.’   
The commander is breathing hard, his frustration forcing his jaw to strain.  
‘Why don’t you let the asset do his job, huh?’ Rumlow turns to him with rage in his face and she’s almost fearful for his 2IC ‘you know how good he is. You know how much we like to watch him work.’  
She risks a glance under her eyelashes and it’s mesmerising how the commander deflates in a matter of seconds. All sets of eyes are on them, watching the tense exchange expecting bullets to start flying at any moment. All eyes except two. There’s a heat to his gaze that she’s coming to recognise. Every time he’d used the front lobby specifically to see her instead of the security entrance. Every time she scheduled her lunch break when she knew they were back from a mission. Every time she knew he caught her scrambling to put her glasses away as though he didn’t think she looked cute as a button with them on. Yes, she knows that heat now and it’s burning her in its intensity. He’s let go of her hair and now stood back awaiting further instruction; the picture of military discipline if it weren’t for his beautiful glistening cock on display, pulsating with how close he was to coming in her satin mouth. And that unwavering gaze. He was oblivious to everything around him barring her. For a split second she wondered if maybe it was Bucky staring down at her, appraising her like he always had. The only thing that drew his attention was that commanding voice.  
‘Asset.’  
It took a few seconds, but finally he looked away from her.   
‘Hoist her up.’  
She drops her eyes dreading what may come next. Hoist her where? The clenching of his fists is not subtle this time, his knuckles whitening but his eyes are as unreadable as ever. The commander shifts his weight, his head cocking in question.   
‘Asset.’  
Was that a hint of fear she could detect in his tone? He was scared he was losing control. This was not the first command that Barnes had showed reluctance to follow. If she could only reach him in there, then he could end this madness. It’s a second later but then that familiar shuffle of his boots as he walks around her and she can feel his warmth as he bends, the breathing through his mask piercing as he bends towards her. The feeling of nakedness is back with his bulk no longer blocking her from full view of the room. One warm hand slips under her arm, a cold metal one under the other and she’s pulled to her feet. He’s slow with her, gentle. Maybe she’s succumbing to Stockholm syndrome. After so long on her knees, she’s lost feeling in her legs. The pins and needles have made her shake and she stumbles. His grip tightens under her arms and she can feel him move closer. If she lifted her feet clean off the floor right now there was no doubt he’d be able to hold her where she was.   
‘Rookie.’  
Another directive to the man behind her. It’s possible he didn’t want to push the soldier too far on the chance he lost him completely. Barnes’ gentility was little comfort to her nerves however, when she saw the Rookie pull two bars down from the ceiling, locking them into place with a loud click. So distracted by the commotion happening above her it’s a second before she realises the second softer click is the release of her handcuffs. He’s released her and she’s too dumbstruck to move.   
‘Hook her up, rookie.’  
Too good to be true. Her hands are fastened again at the wrists, in front of her this time. Understanding dawns and she braces herself for whatever fresh assault is coming her way.   
‘Hoist her, soldat.’  
It’s the first time she’s been able to look him properly in the eye, even stood so many inches taller than her as he was. Clear, bluer than she remembered, and pained. His eyes were tight and what she could only term as agony coloured what she could see of his face. He’d never looked at her like that before, and she never wanted him to look like that at her again. He led her forward, facing her and matching her step for slow step until she was directly under the overhanging bars. God forgive him for not being able to resist. If he could do away with this infernal mask, and all the assholes watching them, and have taken her out for dinner, then what he wouldn’t give to have her willing and pliant under his touch. God forgive him for wanting to see her strung up and open for his taking, if only she wanted it. The bars were too high. Her shoulders strained as he lifted her wrists up to hook over the clasp. As he readjusted the height to make it more comfortable for her she could hear the snickers echoing around the room. They were letting him do what he could to accommodate her. It seemed to egg them on. And it was incensing the commander.   
‘On your knees asset. I want to see her come.’  
Oh god no. Not with all the fantasies she’d had of him doing just that. Not after how wet she was in front of all these strangers who wanted her humiliated. She’s stretched; arms raised high and chest thrust out. At least her ankles were free, the concrete cold under the balls of her feet. It’s a curious mixture of anticipation and horror as she watches Barnes lift his flesh hand to his face, his fingers closing around the symbol of her encroaching fear. It had been easy so far to be on her knees before the winter soldier, so far removed from being able to kiss him, being able to see him. It was another matter entirely to see the taught mouth she’d seen smile at her so many times. It’s just as set as she imagined as his face is revealed.   
‘Bucky…’  
She can’t hear herself say it but she knows he heard. His eyes flick to her lips, his own twitching with an internal war he’s fighting. He takes a step towards her and she wonders if he’s allowed to kiss her. She wonders if he wants to.   
‘Asset.’  
The commander’s tone is full of warning. Barnes halts and then he’s lowering himself before her as she’s imagined so many times and then he’s nudging her feet apart baring her to him and everyone who deigns to look. She refuses to open her eyes to see them, keeping her gaze trained on the beautiful man bent in worship at her feet. The men surrounding them are silent, presumably in attempt to catalogue every sound she makes. While she’s glad to be off of her knees, she can feel herself losing circulation in her wrists already. There was no end in sight. Maybe she would die. And maybe coming against Sergeant Barnes’ tongue wasn’t the worst thing she could do before she did. So delicately he palms her heel, lifting her leg until it’s slotted sturdily over his shoulder and her cunt is directly in front of his mouth. And damn him he looks at her charging the moment between them with everything he wants to do but can’t, everything intention he wants to explain. It lasts long enough he can almost trick himself into believing they’re alone and she’s not tied up against her will. He could almost believe she wanted him there between her legs, begging him to stop teasing her and then lapping up the dregs of her ecstasy. But she’s staring at him like he’s her salvation regardless of how many opportunities he’s missed to end this spectacle. Despite how desperately he wants her just like this, and how much he hates the circumstances, he can’t bring himself to reach for his weapons, or even stand now that he’s so close to satiating his thirst. Her forehead creases, her mouth going slack as what he thinks is forgiveness crosses her face. She nods at him, once, nigh imperceptible and he can hold back no longer. He’s been able to smell her since she was undressed, but now he can taste her. His nose pushing at her clit as he wets his tongue, finally tasting just how slick she was. Her sharp intake of breath is the only thing that obscures his moan, escaping without his permission. Risking a glance upwards, he can see her head thrown back and feel her supporting leg almost give way. Both hands come to steady her, locking tightly around her hips. The men surrounding them daren’t utter a sound, watching intently for her every reaction. The soldier’s head is buried between her thighs, purpose in his grip and his stance.  
‘See that boss?’  
Her eyes shut against their intrusive voices.  
‘Yeah.’  
The Commander sounds wrecked and it’s small consolation that she thinks he’ll keep her alive for as long as he’s enjoying himself. Barnes’ hands are a heady combination of hot and cold around her hips where he’s holding her steady. His tongue is slippery where he slides it over her clit again and again. He’s ruthless, smoothing it over and flicking it up underneath the hood so she bucks into his face. She doesn’t want to climax in front of these strangers, these sadists, but the commander has moved to the soldier’s side and he’s holding his gun at an angle far too ready to shoot her in the head.   
‘Does she look close to coming to you, rookie?’  
It almost feels like a trick question and she can see the Rookie’s chest heaving with fear.  
‘N-no sir.’  
But it sounds like a question. She can feels the soldier tense between her legs and his tongue slows as he listens for any incoming threat.   
‘I’d say you’re right for once, rookie.’  
She thinks the click of his gun might deafen her.  
‘She doesn’t seem close at all, Asset.’  
Barnes’ heaps whips up, his eyes darting to the weapon being raised slowly towards her, his mouth shiny but taught. He’s poised to strike. She could fake it. To save her own life, she could fake it. Whether or not she’d be convincing is another matter though. The Commander is still raising his gun and there’s something behind Bucky’s eyes that she’d only heard of before tonight. The Commander doesn’t even seem to be watching him, so sure of his control. But he’s poised, his metal hand sinking just that little bit deeper into her flesh in anticipation. Her gasp is sharp and cracks across him like a whip.   
‘Bucky…’  
He’s the only one who can hear her whisper, but her terror has an irrevocable effect on him. Her eyes are wide with panic, sweat along her pallid face. In his ears he can hear the increasing thud thud thud of her heart as her body floods with adrenaline, can feel it in how the foot that’s balanced atop his thigh is starting to shake. Rumlow’s gun is almost level with her head. She stares at Bucky, his mouth set with purpose and his eyes darting between them. He’s panicked, his fingers curling so hard into her skin, she’s sure they’ll bruise. How can he seem so invested and yet incapable of moving? The battle his resistance was fighting with his compliance was obvious in his creased brow, his dilated pupils. If death were seconds away, she wouldn’t complain if his face were the last she saw. She just wished he would smile as he so often did at her. The grin that split his face and morphed it into the only joyful expression she’d ever seen on him. The gun is pressed against her temple and she’s frozen. There was no way she would be able to come. She could lose an orgasm if her phone rang, what hope did she have of performing when death was certain? Never would she even have the chance to apologise to Bucky for adding one more death to his conscience.   
‘Asset…’  
There’s uncertainty in the Commander’s tone. Bucky hasn’t moved, looking like a poised rattlesnake. There was a moment between considering if his disobedience was helpful to her living or not and the urge to kick. Her toes twitched. Bucky was still looking at her, his eyes this time pleading with her, and she knew. She knew that her only hope was to cause as much of a diversion as possible before her whole world imploded. Do it. Do it now. She goaded herself to move, shake herself out of her static and kick, flail, jerk, anything.   
‘Asset!’  
The minute the Rumlow raised his voice, she knew his control had slipped too far. She wouldn’t have another opportunity. She reared back, using the foot balanced upon Sergeant Barnes to give herself enough leverage to kick with all her might. And he’s waiting for her, knows that her heel is going to make direct contact with his head, welcomes the blow as it sends him backwards, toppling head first into the concrete floor behind him as he hears a shot ring out. All he has to do is wait until she’s made contact and then his vision is focussed, his surroundings unfamiliar but his objective crystal clear. She’s screaming for him. That’s his name he can hear coming from her mouth, resounding and shrill and suddenly the hands at his sides that had been no better than concrete, feel as dextrous as a pianist. She’s not the only one yelling, there’s a flurry of names he knows he answers to, but none of them will work now. The only voice that concerns him is the one in front of him as he stands. A bullet ricochets off his shoulder, the metal of his arm deflecting it. Bucky is vaguely aware that his pants are undone, but he’s only bothered with shielding the young woman front and centre. She’s bleeding from her thigh, though the wound is closer to her hip than an artery. There’s exactly 12 seconds between where he’s shielding her from the spray of bullets, and when they are alone, the only survivors amongst a litany of beasts. She had never seen brutality so rhythmic, as he dispatched man after man, ripping weapons directly out of rough ready hands, moving cleanly from one to the next as they fought in comparative slow motion, no match for the man they had deemed under their control. It must have been shock, or adrenaline that allowed her to only feel a slight sting at the various points on her body she’d come to learn she’d been shot. She’d never been shot before. It hurt. The pain eventually grew to crippling, but James, Bucky, Sergeant Barnes was wrapping her up in his unyielding embrace, blocking the carnage behind him as best he could while she shivered.   
‘We have to get out of here.’  
He doesn’t need to be any louder than his whisper for her to hear him in the veritable silence.   
‘I-I,’ gods if she could only find the strength to string a sentence together ‘I don’t know if I c-can. I’ve-I’ve been shot.’  
The look on her face punches him in the gut as she finally raises her eyes to his, blood spattered and scared. He would bring them back, all of them, just to kill them again. And again. Bucky shrugs out of his vest, wrapping the leather around her. It wasn’t much but it would do for now. Her clothes are too tattered to wear, never mind that they were soaked with blood.   
‘Can I carry you?’  
There’s a vicelike grip around her heart as he asks. After the atrocities they’d both been forced into, he wanted to afford her one courtesy. There’s no stopping the tears that well up this time. No one else could have been more deserving. She sobs brokenly, a smile splitting her face as she nods. The pain is excruciating as he grips her thigh, but he handles her as though she were spun sugar.  
‘Don’t worry,’ he murmurs against her ear ‘I’ve got you now.’


	2. Chapter 2

‘How is Gunther?’  
‘He’s annoyed our holiday has been postponed but he’ll live.’  
‘How long will it be postponed for?’  
Dr Schreznic’s expression is far too knowing but she humours her all the same.  
‘3 months. I think that’s a fair compromise all things considered.’  
She nods thoughtfully. The good doctor says nothing. The last two sessions have followed the same formula.   
‘It’s a shame that your family won’t see you as soon as they’d like. Are your parents going to visit this year?’  
The doctor pulls off her glasses, sitting them atop her braids as she so regularly did when she was serious.  
‘Ms Laing, we have been speaking about my family for 13 minutes now. As much as I enjoy it, it’s not why we’re here.’  
She sighs, glancing at her hands.  
‘You usually cut me off at ten minutes.’  
Dr Schreznic smiles gently, tilting her head.  
‘I’m not always fire and brimstone, you know.’ A beat. ‘He’s left something for you.’  
At that her head shoots up. Bucky had left something for her? It had been a point of contention for weeks now, whether they should have a combined counselling session with an adjudicator. She had missed seeing him. Missed coming in to work. Missed people being able to talk to her without pity in their eyes. As much as she thought about him, she hadn’t been able to bring herself to reach out. She’d barely been returning Mr Stark’s calls, hating how awkward and yet profusely apologetic his offers of recompense had been. Maybe she’d never be able to return to work. Maybe she was broken. A blush spread across her cheeks at the wayward thought. Considering her fantasies as of late that could be the only conclusion. What kind of whole person woke up from the reoccurring dream of their trauma with their thighs pressed slickly together? What kind of woman imagined more and more what it would have been like to come against Sergeant Barnes’ tongue while men crowded her, watching? Her fantasies had devolved into twisted versions of themselves; dreamscapes where Sergeant Barnes tied her to ever-tighter racks, trapped her spreadeagled and hazy-eyed while he used her until she was spent. Everything that pushed her over the edge now was contrary to what she knew of him. It was no longer James she thought of when she strung her body so tight, it was the soldier. And she hated that.   
‘What?’  
Her tone is frantic, she knows. But she’s helpless to regulate it.  
‘A letter.’  
‘I-I need to see it’  
‘Hold on a second’  
‘I need it please!’  
There was a pregnant pause as Dr Schreznic inhaled deeply.  
‘Take a breath Ms Laing.’ She started ‘I will give it to you to read here, or you can wait until our next session if this is something you’d like to think over.’  
‘I don’t want to think anything over. I want the letter. Please.’  
It’s cold and explosive in her hand when the doctor finally passes it to her. The envelope is plain. No outside markings to allude to the potential for destruction it held inside. There’s the familiar voice inside her head reminding her not to cry. Try as she might, there’s no keeping the tears from smudging the ink as she begins to sob, not two lines down the page. It was everything she was afraid of. It was everything she had hoped for. Everything she deserved and nothing she thought she’d ever be able to justify. Even through her tears his words evoked memories of that night, twisting themselves in her cunt. She hated them. She hated herself. She hated the arousal blooming in her belly. What had these monsters turned her into?

Bucky is nervous. He’s been nervous for weeks now. At least that’s what he thinks the feeling he’s had since he wrote that letter is. Trepidation. That’s what Doc had called it. He slid into a booth at the back of the wine bar, thankfully quiet even for a weeknight. His shirt felt too rough over his skin, seeming to catch on his arm every time he straightened it. What was he doing here? That feeling was intensifying. Whatever it was he wished it would go away. Food was bland, what little he could stomach. His back ached from hunching over his journaling, as rampant as it had become. The first five letters he’d written her were ashes at the bottom of a glass jar that had since been used for nothing else. They weren’t exactly drafts; they were facets of the apology that he’d never be able to properly articulate. One read as an explanation of why his conditioning had lead to his ultimate acts of disgrace, but that was nothing she didn’t already know and not something he could ever atone for. One read as yearning for the mother and sister he could never have back, the women in his life he’d lost and disappointed along the way, something he never wanted to face as she was now one of them. One he barely remembered writing, penning it on the tail end of a sleepless long weekend, and tearing it up in a rage upon finding it the morning after he finally slept. The fourth was an exploration of self-pity that he was too ashamed to even finish before he burnt it. And the last… The last he was most ashamed of. The last letter had been an apology certainly, but not for the things he’d done to her. Bucky ordered bourbon to keep his hands busy, hating how many options were available to him. The last letter betrayed everything he thought he’d stood for, everything he’d fought so hard for, everything he held dear as a sergeant and as a man. The last letter was an admission to just how often she invaded his thoughts. That in and of itself Bucky was more than willing to own. His crush on her had been no secret if anyone had cared to ask him. His cowardice had lain in his inability to do anything about it. No, his disgrace now lay in just how she’d annexed his dreams. Strung up and whimpering against his mouth as she was, he wakes to find himself in hand, throbbing, his tip weeping, and undeserving of any respect ever bestowed upon him. Flashes of her smiling behind stacks of files as she caught his eye, knowing how helplessly he’d remember having her splayed afterwards... the contrast only makes him that much harder. Bucky downs his bourbon quickly, glancing to the abstract clock on the wall too often to appear calm. How much longer until he was put out of his misery? The taste of her was too vital in his memory. How her throat had felt too encompassing for him to concentrate on any worthy memory retrieval during a session. He couldn’t remember everything, whether he was trying to or not was immaterial in his opinion. There are intrusive flashes, while he’s showering, while he’s running, where he remembers the panic in her eyes, or how she’d screamed his name. But it pales compared to the warped fantasies he indulges in now that blend everything he knows of her body and everything he’s imagined. You’re protecting yourself, Doc had said. But while he was enjoying the use of her mouth, her cunt, who was protecting her? He orders another bourbon.   
It’s only four minutes he waits, but it’s an eternity until she’s pushing against the heavy glass door, the bitter cold wind blowing her coat into the bar before her. The bourbon has turned into fire on his tongue. He’s immobilised, his breath hitching. Her eyes sweep back and forth and when she finds him they soften. And gods be praised she smiles at him, small though it may be. This was a bad idea. Bucky already knows he doesn’t deserve anything that follows that smile. She’s covered from neck to ankle in her dress, an attempt to guard against the cold, but also he thinks, to safeguard her from his gaze. It doesn’t work. He can see every curve, every line of her body as she shrugs off her coat and unwinds her scarf. And he hates himself for it. He stands as she shifts into her seat, making it halfway before she halts him.   
‘I wasn’t sure you’d come.’  
There’s a split second when he thinks she’s reaching to touch him. She instead tucks a wayward strand of her behind her ear.   
‘Of course I came.’  
She says it a matter of fact. He pauses.  
‘Listen, the fact that you’re here at all means so much to me and if you could just let me apologise then-’  
‘-Sergeant, please don’t think that-’  
‘-You don’t have to call me that. I’m not Serg-’  
‘-Sh-should we…’   
She huffs, the absurdity of their conversation tweaking her lips. A waitress interrupts to hand her a menu. She’s thankful that something has stopped their awkward back and forth. If only this waitress could standby ready to pull her chair out from under her as a distraction next time things became uncomfortable.   
‘Why don’t we start again?’  
There’s something akin to relief that washes over his face. He nods. The breath she takes is visibly fortifying as she extends her hand.  
‘I’m Lolita...Lita’  
He’s staring at it, expecting her to change her mind and withdraw before he has a chance to touch her. It’s the first time they’ve made contact since…  
He clasps her palm. She’s warm, her pulse thrumming.  
‘Bucky. I’m very pleased to meet you, Lita.’  
And she blushes. His prayers have never blessed him so well.   
‘Th-thank you for your letter,’ her stutter seems to only be increasing the rosy hue in her cheeks ‘I’m sorry that it took me so long to-to, uh-’  
‘-Lita,’ watching her struggle is twisting his gut ‘you could have told me to go fuck myself and I would have understood. There is nothing, and I mean nothing, that you have to be sorry for. I’m the one…’  
He leans back. This was a bad idea. How did you even begin to apologise for what he’d done?  
‘I don’t blame you Bucky.’  
His face is becoming hot, a stinging behind his eyes he hasn’t felt in years. It wasn’t too late to stop this. He could leave now, leave her forgiveness and walk out of her life never to bother her again. But she’s reaching for him and he’s helpless against the urge to touch her again. Be it the sting of a slap or a handshake, he doesn’t care.  
‘You should.’  
Her fingers curl around his wrist.   
‘How can I? You saved my life.’  
The waitress returns, placing a glass of wine between them and whisking away Bucky’s empty glass. It forces them apart and the distance leaves him cold.   
‘How are you healing?’  
‘Slowly, it feels. I’m not used to, well, being shot. At least I’m not on crutches anymore.’  
Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes. He misses her warmth with every passing minute. She’s staring into her glass, wishing the wine would swallow her instead.   
‘Lita,’ she looks at him, all honey coloured eyes ‘obviously if you don’t wanna talk about it, I understand, but I was hoping that you’d be able to help me remember. I know the last thing you need to do is help me but-’  
‘-Doctor Schreznic thinks it would help you.’  
He scoffs.  
‘I don’t care what Doc thinks is good for me. I don’t wanna be part of anything that’s gonna cause you any more pain.’  
She draws the corner of her bottom lip between her teeth, avoiding him.  
‘In your letter you said that you’d kill them all again. If you could.’ Her statement has thrown him ‘Did you really mean that?’  
‘Every word.’  
There’s no hesitation in his answer. She swallows thickly.  
‘Do you remember anything?’  
He’s impressed at how steady her tone is. She is too. That feeling is back in his chest, hotter and tighter than it’s ever been.  
‘Some things.’  
How is he supposed to admit that her taste is burned into his memory? That he’d pictured her on her knees so many times because he knew now exactly what it looked like? That he turns the images over and over in his mind as he pulls on his cock because it’s so much better than the blurred scenarios he’s had before then?   
‘I knew you weren’t…you,’ she begins ‘when I woke up and I saw you standing there like, like…’  
Gods give him strength; after the brutalities he’d committed she was worried about how to delicately refer to him as the Asset. He may fall in love before he’d finished his second drink.   
‘You knew though. I could see you knew who I was. When they asked you to do those awful things, you hesitated.’  
Her breath is shaky and Bucky knows he’s a selfish bastard. He has no right to put her through this.   
‘Lita, if this is too hard, then please-’  
‘-I want to. Just be patient with me.’  
He shuts his mouth, nodding and knowing he’ll go to hell for the eagerness in his fingertips, in his belly, at wanting to hear her describe it to him. He wants to confirm just how much he knows of her is pure fantasy so he can sleep soundly safe in the knowledge his dreams aren’t at her expense. He wants to hear her talk about how much of her body he took from her so he can die without the pretence that he was ever a good man.   
‘I knew the man giving you orders. I’d seen him in the tower before. He told me that my Bucky couldn’t hear me. He-he knew. He knew…’  
It hangs heavy between them. Her admission is almost his undoing. Rumlow knew that she liked Bucky. This angel liked him, a man rightfully damned for his transgressions. He says nothing. Patience is the least he can give her.   
‘He ordered you to strip me.’  
Bucky’s face tightens. That feeling is overwhelming him.  
‘Then he made you,’ she shuts her eyes, inhaling ‘force yourself in my mouth.’  
Her voice breaks. She’s not crying, but he is. He doesn’t realise until a tear lands hot on the table in front of him, staining the wood. If she notices, she doesn’t react.  
‘I thought that would be it, but they wanted to humiliate me. He threatened you. You wouldn’t touch me until he pointed a gun at my head.’  
There’s compassion as her face twists, watching tears stream down his face.  
‘Oh Bucky, you tried to protect me from the beginning.’  
She reaches for him again, her fingers tender against his cheek as she swipes at his cheek. He’s frozen, torn between leaning in to her touch and walking out into oncoming traffic.  
‘Did I,’ he steels himself for the question he never thought he’d ask ‘did I rape you?’  
‘No. No.’  
It’s forceful. She drops her hand to his, squeezing emphatically.   
‘You saved my life, Bucky. That’s all you did. It’s what you keep doing in my dreams.’  
He clears his throat, suddenly aware that they’re in public. They might even look as though on a date, two people talking intimately and holing hands. How he longed to have been able to bring her to a place like this under different circumstances and laugh at her jokes and tuck her hair behind her ear.   
‘You said in your letter that you’re having dreams too.’  
‘I don’t trust them.’  
She hasn’t pulled away from him yet.  
‘What happens?’  
The feeling is morphing into something else unwelcome albeit completely different. He shakes his head, his exhale stuttering.   
‘You can be honest with me Bucky. No one else there matters. Just you and me. It’s only you and me.’  
Gods help him because she’s imploring him and he thinks he remembers that expression on her face once before.   
‘My dreams are…’ her head thrown back with his face between her legs. He tries to physically shake the intrusive memory loose. The fact she’s tracing small circles into his skin isn’t helping.   
‘Please, Bucky.’  
He never had a chance.  
‘I think I remember kneeling. You were tied.’   
His cock jumps. He hates himself. She nods.  
‘I’m in my tac gear and you’re naked. Your leg is over my shoulder,’ he pauses waiting for confirmation to continue. She squeezes his hand ‘but in my dreams, you’re enjoying it.’  
She stills and he knows he’s overstepped the line, ruined any tentative trust they had. But still she’s not pulling away. If anything, she grips him tighter.  
‘I can still feel you on my tongue some nights.’  
It feels like the truest thing he’s ever said and it take everything in him not to hang his head in shame. It shocks her. Still she doesn’t pull away.   
‘Lita, I’m so sor-’  
‘-I did.’  
It’s his turn to be shocked. She couldn’t have said…  
‘What?’  
‘I did enjoy it.' It's quiet, but he's as sure he heard her correctly as he is in gravity. 'He held a gun to my head and said that unless you made me come, he would kill me.’  
There’s nothing in his head. Her confession has wiped any thought away.  
‘Under other circumstances I don’t doubt... you would have.’  
The colour is back in her cheeks and it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. Finally she let’s go, drawing back in her chair not at her disgust at him, but with uncertainty.   
‘If I’m honest,’ she continues ‘I’ve been thinking about that. Which is why I need you to believe me when I tell you that you have nothing to apologise for.’  
The heat in his belly is spreading.  
‘It’s not fair for me to let you keep thinking that you did something wrong when the opposite is true.’  
He’s completely hard now. She glances into her lap. If he focuses on her chest, he can see the shuddering across her dress from the thudding of her heart. It was quite a feeling to know her words hadn't left her unaffected. He wishes more than anything she’d look at him so he can search her face for the same arousal he’s sure is the cause of her blush. Bucky wasn't to know that her hands has been so hurriedly shoved into her lap to avoid them shaking on the table.  
‘I was so scared of seeing you again because what I really want,’  
He can barely hear her over the rushing of blood in his ears  
‘is to know what it’s like.’  
He’s breathing too quickly  
‘I’ve wanted you to make me come like that ever since that night.’  
It comes out in a rush and she’s still avoiding his eyes, finding her wine glass to be of the most interest. Bucky isn’t so sure he’s not dreaming now. Maybe in his wildest fantasies she admitted she still wanted him, still thought about him even after showing her the monster he could be. When he wrung himself out all over his belly there was that split second between when his come was still hot and before the shame washed over him that he imagined her voice telling him that she wanted him to finish what he had started. Except this time it would be on their terms. He must be dreaming still. He can’t risk it.  
‘Lita?’  
Her bottom lip is being crushed between her teeth.  
‘Lita, look at me.’  
The air between them is charged as she does. Honey intent and uncertainty. Maybe this was too good to be true. He couldn’t risk it.   
‘All you have to do is ask.’  
His voice is gruffer than he intended. Proof that he’s already twisted to the edge of his control. He’s already damned, he’ll take this risk before strolling happily into hell.   
‘Ask me.’  
She finally looks up but she can’t be sure of his meaning. Surely the Sergeant didn’t mean for her to command him as so many others had done. But he told her to ask him, if that’s what she wanted. After so many years of not having a choice, that’s the least she could afford him. Seeing his mouth open in anticipation, the need in his eyes that so closely matched hers, maybe she could take pity on the both of them. Just this once.   
‘Would you make me come like that, Bucky?’  
She can’t believe it’s come out of her mouth. What’s even more unbelievable, though, is his answer.  
‘Yes.’


End file.
